University of Virginia Library

The tear was in poor Norman's eye;
Nor was thy cheek, fair Anna! dry;
Sylvander deem'd the woeful tale
Might furnish theme for plaintive wail.
And while he comfort spoke, was heard
The gen'rous Albert's warning word.
For now the crowded ridge-ends yield,
The bands fly scatter'd through the field
For coat or bottle, hat or shawl;
And, hook on arm, re-meeting all,
With jest, and laugh, and merry lay,
So blithe they went their homeward way.
The glorious sun, o'er Higypt hung,
His setting rays obliquely flung,
And bade the landscape smile;
Extended lay—a varied scene!
The crossing lines of hawthorns green,
The yellow fields, with woods between,
And halls and hamlets glancing sheen
For many a lovely mile!
So clear the evening, and so still
The curious eye could mark
Thy fam'd kine noble Tankerville!
Graze in their verdant park;
Thy Mount, fair Alnwick! tow'ring high
Against the distant azure sky,
Where—durst a foreign band
Threaten our sea-encircled coast,—
(As late, Napoleon! was thy boast,)
The beacon, blazing grand,
Would bid the heroes of the North,
Around their Percy sally forth,
And guard their native land!
But these gay scenes at last sink down,
And fells of Bewick, wild and brown,
As home the reapers go;
They lose Roddamia's window-gleam;
And now, beneath the western beam,
They see dun Heddin glow;
Now Calder's supper-smoke they spy
Rolling to meet the light on high,
And Cunnion's cliffs, rough-rising nigh,
Dark down their shadows throw!